


Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - Taking Care of You

by Samstown4077



Series: Colepaldi Collection [54]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humour, RPF, Sick Fic, Tumblr Prompt, when peter twisted his knee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 19:36:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5304128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Samstown4077
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Peter twists his knee, Jenna is by his side. She is worried, he is unnerved, and soon he is tired being looked after. Sick-Fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - Taking Care of You

**Author's Note:**

> From a tumblr prompt, if I could write another Sick-Fic. So here it is. Might not what was expected, but I had Peter and his knee-incident in mind, and so I thought it's a good point to start. 
> 
> Based on a little real fact, the rest is total fiction, please remember. RPF

Peter knew it would happen one day. It was certain to him, as it was certain that the sun went up in the morning and went down in the evening. Not that he thought about it all the time, but sometimes when they made him do something ‘ _really stupid_ ’, like hanging down from some wires, he thought about it again.

Maybe it was bad karma, thinking about it, on the other side, it made him more cautious, more aware, and so he often could prevent injuries.

He felt young, he felt great, sometimes he woke up in the morning, ready to save the world, and then, when his back twitched, he remembered that his body was not so young anymore, and he sighed and went on with his day.

So the day it happened, he didn’t even realize at first it happened. When he run down a corridor and made a swift turn on one of his feet, he knew something was not right, but he didn’t feel anything. Only when his knee gave in without his consent, he knew it finally had happened. He had twisted his knee.

With a slight groan he came down to the floor, not fast, just very slowly and aside not having any pain yet, he must have looked very horrified, as three people were at his side immediately. One of them Jenna.

He looked at her, and it was to him as if she knew what had happened before anybody else — before him.

“Shit,” he mumbled, and shuffled around on the floor, aware not to move his leg too much.

“Does it hurt?” Jenna asked, and saw he made no intention of moving his leg to find out.

After a second he carefully moved his knee, it hurt, but not that much, and for a moment he thought it might was just something minor, but there was a voice in his head, that told him it wasn’t, “Slightly.”

They helped him up, and he limped over to a chair, his hand caressing over his knee, soothing himself. They called it a day, it was one of the last scenes of the day anyway. Someone brought Peter an ice pack, another a hot water bottle. One of it would help probably, he thought, and started with the ice pack.

They also had a first aider on set, as usual. One of the crew whose side job was to ride with the ambulances at the weekend, and he took a look at Peter's knee.

He was about to rip his trousers apart, when he stopped him, “It’s not a flesh wound, Dan! I strip it down okay?”

Dan, the helper, smirked, giving Jenna a short glance, “Okay.”

And Jenna realised, it was maybe a good moment to leave for a moment, “I let you do this, and be back in a moment.” She patted his shoulder, gave him a smile, and left the area.

For some reason she had seen it coming, the moment he had turned on his heel to face her, she knew something ‘had broken’ in his knee. It was the way the knee had turned, looking so unhealthy and the way his eyebrows had twitched. Immediately she had remembered Matt having a similar accident. Walking around in crutches for a week.

Worried, she nibbled at her thumb, thinking about what to do, when Dan came around, telling her Peter was dressed again. They shared a short grin, and then he told her, it might not be too serious, but a proper Doctor should look at it.

“He should go to the hospital right away,” Dan suggested. “Someone should take him.”

Jenna nodded, and returned to Peter who glared down his knee, as if he could make it better that way.

“Hey, old man,” she smiled at him, looking at his knee almost the same way, and he chuckled.

“You are always so sensitive,” he shot back.

She walked over and sat aside him, “Dan calls a cab, and then we bring you to a Doctor,” he was about to open his mouth, but she shut him down, “A proper Doctor.”

He knew it made no sense to do as if this was nothing, because it was not nothing, it was something, and he had to take care of it, so he might could be back on track the next day, “Yes, fine. I knew this would happen one day.”

“We all knew,” Jenna said, “It’s like a Doctor Who tradition, isn’t it? It’s not who gets hurt, it’s who gets hurt first and who second. In the series with Matt I strained my wrist, very unpleasant.”

Peter chuckled, and she frowned at him for a moment, as she couldn’t detect why he was laughing about her story, “Sorry, I just thought about those cliché talks, you know. Talking and showing off each other's injuries and scars. Like, who is the most toughest.”

“Ah,” she laughed. “Not showing you my scars.”

He smirked, his eyes roaming over her body, asking himself where the hell she could have scars anyway. She saw it and huffed playfully, “Okay, I show you one.”

Leaning back, he almost forgot to swallow, then she held out her hand, showing him her left ring finger, “There. Cut myself very deep a few years ago.”

He needed to squint to see something. Indeed there was a fine line to see, a bit shorter as an inch, “Woah, proper battle scar you have there.”

Jenna could clearly hear the mocking, and bumped him against the chest with her fist, “It indeed is one. It needed stitches. Three to be exactly. So, what’s with you, any battle scars on your hands?”

She reached out to his left hand, without realizing she did, and only when she held it into the light, searching the skin of each of his fingers for some old wounds, she felt his gaze on her.

For a second she stopped her breathing, thinking about to blush, but quickly overplayed the feeling, and went on with her search. Playing it cool, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, to dissect Peter’s long fingers. She had waited for him to say something, or to take his hand away, but in the second where she had considered how to proceed, he just swallowed very hard, and did nothing else. Let her proceed, his hand at ease in hers.

“You have cold hands,” was all he said after a while, when she slowly lowered his hand, without any success in finding a scar. He knew he had one, very fine, and she probably hadn’t seen it, but there was also the possibility, that she had stopped looking for it, her mind being busy with other thoughts.

She placed his hands back onto the armrest, a fraction too long keeping the contact, before she announced, “Happens to happen. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

His eyes rested on his own hand, seeing her hand move away, and he felt his skin still tingle from her touch, “It wasn’t,” he laid his eyes on her, saying a bit too low, “inconvenient.”

They both jumped when Dan returned and announced that the cab was here, and Peter quickly nodded and declined a helping hand. Testing the ground carefully with standing up and walking on the spot for a bit, “I’ll manage.”

“Come on,” Jenna grabbed his arm, and wanted to go into the direction where the cab was waiting.

Peter stopped her, “What are you planning to do?”

“I am making sure, that you get to see a Doctor today,” she tugged at his arm. “Oh, don’t you worry, I will not come in with you. I just want to make sure, you’ll arrive there.”

He sighed and followed her without another word. Jenna could be very persistent in some areas. As promised, she didn’t went with him, just made sure, he arrived safely and told him to call her when he knew anything more. He promised and also said, he would be back on set tomorrow, and Jenna knew it was not only a promise but a warning, because he would be back on set, and even if it would be in a wheelchair. Peter was Peter, no one would stop him from being Doctor Who.

#

She was just about to eat some dinner, when her phone rang and she was relieved when she could tell it was Peter, “Hey old man, what does the Doctor say?”

He gave her comment a short grumble, she could clearly hear over the phone and she giggled without making a noise over it. For some reasons he hadn’t figured out how to give a witty answer to that yet, “They have to do a surgery.”

“They have to do what?” the fork in her hand came to rest on the plate with a clung.

“Yes, not right away, but soon,” he explained. There was some rustling as if he was about to clean something or to make himself a sandwich. At least he made it home, she thought. “Something inside the knee has ‘broken’ and they suggest I shall come in as soon as possible to do the ‘repairs’.”

“Oh, no,” Jenna was aware that they had still one month of filming ahead, “But… can you walk? Can you…”

“... play Doctor Who? You mean?” he knew exactly what she thought, because he had the same thoughts earlier. “The Doctor told me it would be better not to run, to crouch or to jump.”

Jenna thought about it, in try to detect the joke in his words, “That’s basically …”

“... the job description. I know. That’s what I told him,” he laughed, sitting down onto his sofa, a sandwich on a plate in front of him. “They are willing to give me a treatment. Some injections, some painkillers. He said I could manage that way till the operation, also I shouldn’t overdo it.”

“I am so sorry, Peter,” was the only thing she could say. She knew all too well how he felt about it now. He wanted to give his best, and now his body had set the limit, and that was something everyone would get frustrated over it.

“It’s not your fault,” he answered. “As you said, it was just a question of when. It will be fine again. I have to rest the knee for a couple of days, I already called Steven, they reschedule some action scenes and then we will be fine.”

“It’s not dangerous, is it? The operation?” Jenna then asked him.

“No, don’t think so, I mean it’s an operation, but they said I could come in, in the morning and leave in the evening,” he was now chewing his sandwich. “Routine. I already scheduled the day, after we finished filming the Christmas Special.”

“Good,” was all she answered, slightly cringing when mentioned the Christmas Special, for reasons.

Peter sensed it, and told her to go to bed, they would see each other the next day, and from there on he rested his leg on an extra stool, when he was not filming.

People buzzing around him asking him if he needed anything, and every time he made the attempt to stand up Jenna laid eyes and a hand on him, “You don’t move. Tea? Coffee? Biscuits?”

She took care like a mother goose that he rested his knee, and always brought him a coffee or a biscuit when she was around to get herself something. On one side it was very nice, on the other, he felt like a three year old.

“Jenna,” he began, but she interrupted him.

“You know what the Doctor said!”

“I have to go to the loo,” she frowned at him, not understanding at first what he told her. “Bathroom? I need to p-”

“-I get it!” she stopped him, feeling her cheeks go red. “That’s something only you can do.”

“Thanks,” he nodded gracefully, slowly standing up. It was not that he was slow on his legs or had any big pain, but everyone just made him so nuts about his knee, that he was afraid to breath sometimes. It was time he said something. “Listen,” he turned to her, “you have to stop this.”

She glanced up from the script, “What?”

“Taking care of me. You all have to,” he balanced on his better leg. “You all make me feel like I am dying or something, but it’s only my knee. I am fine, I got my painkillers, I am careful, and I run like a waddling penguin anyway — no one will notice if I limp a bit more.”

“So?” she kept the expression on her face in check, not letting slip that she felt scolded by him.

“Stop,” he said as soft as he could. He knew when he was too persistent, she would feel pushed away, “I appreciate it, but I feel like someone I shouldn’t feel. Not around you.”

The part between her eyebrows twitched, and she tried to analyse his words in this short time, with no success, “How do you feel?”

For a moment he hesitated, searching the right words in his head, “Like a baby, or worst, like a very old man, and none of it I want to feel like. Especially not around you.”

“Sorry,” she said after she had nodded first for a bit. She got it, she knew how they all danced around him trying to read his wishes and treated him like he was glass, and she knew that it was nice for a bit, but then one gets unnerved and one wants to be left alone. “I … know what you mean. I leave you alone. But you say when…”

“I will say when I need something, or when it hurts,” he smiled, letting out a long stream of air, he did hold for a while. “I promise.”

“No Scottish toughness?”

“No Scottish toughness.”

“Great,” Jenna announced then, and returned back to her script, and when Peter was about to leave, she stopped him, “Oh, when you are at it, can you bring me some coffee on your way back?”

There was an expression in her face, he only could title ‘ _you wanted independence, now make yourself useful’_ , “Sure.” Again he turned around for leaving.

“And some biscuit maybe?” her voice reached him, and he could hear the teasing, the laughter in it. “A snack, something like that?”

He grinned, and bit on his tongue before turning around one last time, “Anything else your majesty?”

“Stop it!” she pointed at him. “Or I’ll babysit you again!” They shared a look and she smirked at him.

He went a bit lost in thoughts while looking at her, and only found back into the now, when she looked at him with a quizzical look, “Can’t risk that,” he quickly answered.

Jenna followed him with her eyes till he was gone, smiling. They both knew she would not really stop looking after him, she would do it differently. She knew him already so long, and she knew when he had an itch for some cookie or usually went for a coffee or a tea. So she went, doing as if she was getting herself something and simply dropped the cup by.

No big things, she couldn’t carry him in the end, little things, making it more easy, and he knew because he knew her all too good the same. He didn’t say anything about it, gave her a smile, a certain smirk, and a kiss on her cheek additional to the ones she received anyway.

Because that’s how they rolled.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit, the story is just a collection of conversations and happenings, and it's not a big dramatic story, but I have written so much drama lately and I think it's okay so. I was unsure how to end the thing, but then I remembered the DW reference, and I think it's good this way.
> 
> I would love to read your comments about it!
> 
> Thanks for the read!


End file.
